


The Promised Day

by BleedingCoffee



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: AU, FMAWeek2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 07:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3600702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingCoffee/pseuds/BleedingCoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ishval War AU where the State Alchemists are the Seven Deadly Sins and the Amestrians call the end of the war 'The Promised Day'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> For Tumblr's FMAWeek 2015 Day 3 Prompt: The Promised Day/Parallel World/War

_The Promised Day_

Chapter 1

**Awakening**

* * *

 

_Ishval 1908_

* * *

 

“ _The Promised Day is almost here.”_

 

He could hear the words in the distance as he pushed out of the confusion of sleep. He tried to move but found his body unresponsive and what little movement he could muster was painful. His body was warm, mouth dry and ears were ringing. He couldn't open his eyes.

 

“ _We've been hearing that for years now.”_

 

“ _Well, it's true Doc. They have the State Alchemists in the field now and they're bringing this war to an end.”_

 

“ _Young man, please be respectful of the individuals you are sharing this hospital with. They are victims of the alchemist's attacks.”_

 

The voices were clearer now and less distant. He chose to focus on them to figure out what side they were on. If he could get his voice to leave his throat he could ask questions. Hospital? But which side's? He felt the throbbing, pulse of pain begin in his arm and it made him groan. The voices faded back into the dark as his brain began to withdraw from unconsciousness and return to reality. He twitched his hand and struggled to rationalize why he wasn't in control of his body.

 

“ _Urey, our patient is coming to. Perhaps you should give him another sedative?”_

 

“ _Sara....I have torn stitches over here....”_

 

“ _I'll get it.”_

 

His heart rate quickened as he felt and heard a commotion around him. He struggled to make his body obey his commands, but before he could move more than a finger he felt a stab in his arm.

 

“Rest now, friend.” 

 

Her voice was soothing even if his adrenaline was beginning to surge and flashes of the nightmare that put him in the hospital returned. He felt the drugs begin to take a hold of his mind again, inviting him back into unconsciousness where the pain and panic wouldn't follow...

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

“ _What happened to the Rockbells?”_

 

“ _They met with a fate befitting traitors.”_

 

“ _Colonel Grand...”_

 

“ _Doctor Marcoh! Do you want to come with me to the front or stay here and continue with your work? The choice is yours, however I need results if you are staying in this research facility.”_

 

He knew he was no longer in the hospital, the breeze and warmth of the desert was familiar then....this place was cold and smelled of death and fear. He had been moved. There was silence as the two people who woke him with their argument ended their discussion. He listened to the sound of boots as they shuffled on the floor and tried to regain control of his senses. His mind was no longer hampered by drugs, he was able to think clearer and his pain was much harder to ignore.

 

There were things he couldn't remember, mainly names. He felt a ring of familiarity to the names Grand and Rockbell but couldn't place it with anything. It was as if the memory was gone and it hurt his brain to search for it. He remained still, survival instinct kicking in and telling him to remain as quiet as possible to avoid detection while he figured out what he was able to do.

 

“ _Doctor Marcoh, how is your research coming along?”_

 

The voice was a woman's. She had a very distinctive tone to her voice, sexy and alluring. He tried moving his hand and found that his left hand cooperated but his right seemed sluggish and also painful to move. He told himself to focus on the voices, listen to the conversations and use that to piece together answers.

 

“ _As well as can be expected.”_

 

“ _Doctor, we're running out of time here. Soon this war will be over and with it all the lovely sacrifices we have provided you with. You wouldn't want us to have to start using out own citizens, would you?”_

 

“ _These are our own citizens, Lust.”_

 

“ _Mmm...but ones nobody will miss.”_

 

“ _I'm producing results.”_

 

“ _The stones are not lasting very long. Kimblee is burning through them a little too quickly._ ”

 

Kimblee. The name struck a cord but he didn't know why. When he tried to focus on the name all that he produced was a sharp stabbing pain in his mind. Perhaps God didn't want him to remember the names men bestowed upon themselves, perhaps he wanted him to erase those label and focus on exactly what he felt and saw. _Nature_. Human nature and the earth's nature.

 

He felt a calm as he focused on one thing he remembered very clearly: Ishvala. His God. Perhaps he had strayed and his God has saved him by cleansing his mind of these labels and intellectual conflicts. A warmth came over him as he thought about this and let the words of his God flood his mind. They were ingrained in his being, he didn't have to question how he remembered any of it. He felt blessed to remember and with a purpose. If he had no memories but those of God, then he could embrace them without distraction.

 

 

So now he prayed to Ishvala to tell him what his purpose was. Why he had been saved and what he was tasked with doing. He started to have fragments of his memory come back...the destruction, fear and death. There was also a man he called his brother who sacrificed himself to save him. If he had been given a second chance at life, maybe it was to be a warrior of God and defend his people from the pain he had endured. Whatever his purpose, he was going to have to get up and leave this place before the enemy killed him again. That was something he felt very strongly about.

 

He waited and listened, more boots went stomping by and he didn't want to give away that he was awake. Last time that got him drugged and moved. He couldn't afford another lapse of time like that, not if these people were talking about sacrifices. Why he could remember that Amestrians were the enemy and not who Kimblee, Grand or Rockbell were was frustrating. However it helped him maintain a focus on the conversations around him.

 

“ _Kimblee's turned on his own commanders. Apparently he has standards after all.”_

 

It was a new voice, one that seemed to have a light and mocking tone to it. He had to bite the inside of his mouth to suppress a moan as his right arm shot streaks of pain up and down it's entire length as if a nerve had been struck. He struggled to conquer the pain and remain silent.

 

“ _Envy, what are you saying? Did we lose him?”_

 

“ _I don't know, Wrath is pissed but he's still blowing people up so why stop him? I mean we want people dead...who cares what clothes they're wearing.”_

 

Lust. Envy. Wrath. Sins.... _seven deadly sins_. He tried to focus on that to push through the intense pain shooting up and down his arm causing it to feel like it was on fire. Then he remembered the flash of heat and the screams, the smell of pulverized clay, burning wood and flesh and blood. The explosions, the fire....the destruction. Hell on Earth.

 

The voices of the individuals known as Lust and Envy could no longer be heard, but he wasn't sure if it was because his mind finally allowed him to glimpse fully into the recent past and the horrors that put him in a hospital. No longer flashes of random memories, he saw the entire event play out from the start. The man on the rooftop, the explosions he created with his hands. The flames and smoke billowing in the distance and looming over the rooftops. The screams and the fear drowned out by the explosions and laughter. Death all around him and his eyes looking at a his own body mutilated. If he had survived that hell than it was because of a higher power.

 

These people, these Amestrians, were the embodiment of sins and their alchemy that went against God. Their 'promised day' that was the end of the the war they started would not come until _their_ blood stained the sands of Ishval. If it was no longer home to his people, then the Amestrians weren't going to return home either. They would pay for their sins, starting with the seven deadliest ones: the alchemists. Clarity had returned, along with anger. His right arm throbbed as his emotions began to rage inside of him and called him to action.

 

He struggled against a restraint that was keeping him bound to the table beneath him. He needed to see in order to free himself and enact vengeance for the death of his brother and his people. He was able to roll his head and push the bandage that covered his face off his right eye. The bandage pulled at injured flesh and ripped scabs off his face as he freed his face from it. He gritted his teeth and focused on a man in a lab coat. An older man with graying hair that was leaning over a table. This was some sort of lab and there was a pile of bodies in the corner...with dark skin and horror written all over their faces. It triggered a rush of fury a that he could barely control. It was enough to break through the leather bindings that held him to the gurney. Those were his people dead in the corner like they were dead animals. On the floor there was a huge...array. A circle with alchemy runes written in white....alchemy. Damned alchemy. Of course that was the cause of the evil here.

 

The man in the lab coat turned to him, startled and frozen in place as he walked over and put his hand to his throat. He pushed off the rest of his bandage in order to see this man with both eyes. He remembered it now so clearly, how his life was leaking from his arm thanks to that man up on the rooftop. How his brother saved him by merging his own arm onto his to save him so he could use his research to save their people. This right arm, with the tattoo and pulsating pain and energy that was outstretched before him. “What are you doing to my people?”

 

Tim Marcoh gasped for air as the incredibly strong Ishvalian threatened to crush his throat with his hand. His intense red eyes demanded an answer and the 'X' shaped injury on his face made it all the more intimidating. He knew his end was near. He felt no reason to lie or try to save his own life, perhaps in confessing his sins to this man he could buy some peace for his condemned soul. “Making philosopher's stones...with their souls.”

 

He was surprised this man would be honest. He saw the that he knew he was doing something so horribly wrong that he could not justify lying about it. He could see that guilt in this man's eyes, once he looked past the fear he saw a tortured soul. “How can you take souls from the bodies of man...only God can do that. Only God can bestow life with a soul into a body and death by taking that soul from the vessel. How dare you play God....what are you _monster_?”

 

“I'm the Crystal Alchemist.”

 

He could tell that the man didn't want these horrors attributed to his real name, hiding behind the moniker given to him by his government. His hand involuntarily spasmed and almost crushed the alchemist's windpipe. He had found his purpose. Not knowing their names would allow him to see them for what they really were. Not humans, but sins. “I shall call you Sloth. If you can so easily ignore the sanctity of God's creation...if you can take something so precious as a soul and re-purpose it....your indifference to God's creation makes you...”

 

It was then that the man's head exploded in a surge of power from his hand. He watched the body fall from his hand as he let go not comprehending what he just did. He looked at his hand and could feel the tingle from the nerves but it wasn't painful anymore, it felt like it had released the pressure and pain with that surge of energy. He had been born again and given a great weapon by Ishvala himself: the right hand of God.

 

He didn't know how he knew he could summon such energy in his right hand, but it felt like that knowledge was tattooed in his mind as well as on his arm. In another life, he was a good man who lived by the teachings of Ishvala. He was a warrior monk with a brother who dabbled in alchemy and alkhestry, a brother who died to save him. Now he used the gift of this power and his arm to destroy those who took his land and life. It was time to do as his brother wished and use the Amestrian's weapons against them and use this weapon of God to deliver the punishments they deserved.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He never did find out his name.

 

That little man with the amputated leg, the State Alchemist who could make weapons out of silver he extruded from the Earth. A short little man with a tuft of silver hair on his head and a long mustache that had lost his leg in the day's battle and was heavily medicated. Instead of asking who he was, he gave him the name 'Greed' because of his use of alchemy to extract a precious metal from the ground. The little man's enjoyment of his job had been evident as he watched him that day. The man laughed as he slaughtered innocents, using the earth's precious metals as weapons against the women and children of that village. Ishvala the Earth God's gifts to the people being perverted for use by this misguided man. The Silver Alchemist, Greed, died for his sins and was the second of the State Alchemists to die by his hand.

 

He was already an outcast, the tattoo on his arm was a sin in itself as his own people did not condone the use of alchemy. His people believe alchemy a sin in itself, a defiance of God as man took creation into his own unworthy hands. Even if he did stop at the deconstruction portion and did not create something new, the knowledge and practice of the art was unacceptable and the elders expressed their disapproval. He might have been a former warrior of Ishval but they would not forgive his dishonorable methods of vengeance. Even in war, they would not resort to such lowly methods to defend themselves from annihilation.

 

He however never did find out _his_ name.

 

Instead the Amestrians started to call him Scar, and put a protective detail on their human weapons in their own camps fearing they would have their brains liquefied in the middle of the night. It did little good, he was now standing outside the tent of the man he called Gluttony because of his over-indulgence of all things weaponized and the military might his position allowed him to have. He had been the one to utilize the philosopher's stones in battle, the man who had the doctors who had saved his life killed and was the Colonel in charge of all the State Alchemists in the field. Tonight he would pay for his sins and answer to God for his wrong doing. The Iron Blood Alchemist, or Gluttony, would not see another morning.

 


	2. Sinners

_The Promised Day_

Chapter 2

**Sinners**

* * *

 

 

Roy Mustang walked through the ruins of the village alone. The acrid smoke filled his lungs, coated his throat and clogged his sinuses as he reluctantly took another breath. The Flame Alchemist was no stranger to the feeling, nor the sensation of his eyes burning with ash, soot and the lingering heat. It was something he forced himself to continue to recon with, in doing so he reminded himself he could never walk away from this. Even if there was nothing but ash and debris in his wake, he had to remember the taste and sting of his unique brand of war.

 

He was still numb from battle and the last thing he wanted to do was walk away from this and write it off as 'Sector 245-Clear.'. Hughes and the rest of his company were making sure the sector was secure, that everyone was indeed dead so they could move on to annihilating another innocent village. Oh, sorry, another _sector_. One of those rules of war, you do not personalize the enemy.

 

He was in a daze and kept his eyes on the ground, looking at the bodies left in his wake. The bodies of civilians: women, children, elderly. Peaceful people who did nothing wrong but worship a different God, have a darker skin and inherit unique red eyes. Were they really any different than him? _Different._ He had his fair share of bullying being of mixed race, with different eyes and understanding a foreign dialect. Even no longer believing in a God at all was to some was just as profane as believing in the wrong God. Ishvalians were even Amestrian citizens...just like him. So why was he here? Why were they exterminating their own people? Who would be next?

 

Before he realized it he was already on the outskirts of destroyed town and he pulled back the hood of his cloak to watch the sunset in the West. It looked particularly red and bright today, just like his flames had been this afternoon. Bright, beautiful and deadly as they signified the end of a day and life of so damned many.

 

He hit the ground, his knees sinking into the sand of this desert that held no interest as a territory for anyone. Yet it was home to a slowly shrinking population of people who just wanted to be left alone. He held his hand up, blocking out the setting sun with it and looking at the soot stained ignition cloth and fading red cotton embroidery. Streaks of red and amber of the sunset combined with the off white fabric were all too familiar. Even without being in the act of destroying, it was all his stinging eyes could see. _Hell_. Eternal fires of damnation.

 

The most sickening thing was that he, Roy Mustang, was not in hell. He was the one who brought hell with him, on the tips of these shaking fingers. He let his hand fall and hung his head. He had to go back soon or someone would come find him. As tempting as it was to just walk into the desert and let it all fade into nothing behind him, he knew that there was never going to be a sunset he could look at without thinking about what he did. The time for walking away was long gone, along with his innocence and soul, and it would serve no purpose. The Ishvalian people would still die and this war would drag on until they all were gone.

 

So he stood and turned around, his back to the setting sun and his red rimmed eyes facing the oncoming night. These people that died today, all those innocents would be awaiting him when he closed his eyes looking for answers. He would tell them that he would never forget, that they will not die in vain, because he was going to fix this damned world where something like this could happen. Then they could have his soul to rip apart in the afterlife and he would willfully surrender it to them. Before he could take a step an unfamiliar voice disturbed the quiet of the aftermath.

 

“You are the one they call Flame?”

 

He searched the shadows for the voice and looked off to his right, calculating the distance so he could send a stream of fire at the individual if he was the enemy. As much as this life haunted him, he could not give up on it so easily. He had to make amends, otherwise nothing would ever change. It wasn't about saving his own life, it was about saving others. So despite his personal torment, he stood ready to fight for the right to continue to exist if it was necessary. “I am.”

 

Scar stepped around the corner of the building that once was a home to an Ishvalian family. A family who left their breakfast on the table this morning and fled the one place they should have felt safe. “What gives you the right to wield fire as your weapon like the wrath of God?”

 

Roy saw him clearly now in the basking glow of the setting sun. The scar evident on his face from this short distance, he didn't need to ask the man what he wanted. The army was on high alert, Marcoh, Commanche and Grand had already fallen victim to this Ishvalian and there was no doubt in his mind this man intended to implode his internal organs just like he did the other alchemists. There was nowhere to run, nothing to do but cover himself with a wall of explosions in order to retreat back to the security of destroyed, smoldering buildings. He was better off fighting out in the open. “So you are here to judge me, _like_ a God?”

 

Scar eyed him, this young man he had dubbed 'Wrath'. He wasn't like the others, this man was on his knees when he found him...perhaps begging for his God's forgiveness? He looked like he was lost, a man who couldn't find his way out of where his mistakes had lead him. “I'll help you find peace, after I deliver justice for your sins. Will you go quietly, Wrath? I see your guilt weighing you down, death will ease the pain of this life you have ruined with your acts against God.”

 

Roy held his hand up and prepared to snap but a shot rang out and he watched the Ishvalian wince and grab his arm. He didn't need to look to see who was coming for him, he knew the sound of Hawkeye's rifle as opposed to their standard issue sidearms. He took his chance and snapped, hoping to put an end to this man's rampage across their lines. He too had people to protect.

 

Scar knew what was coming, he had watched Wrath from a distance and saw his arsenal of attacks. He leapt to his left and took cover in the semi-demolished house as the flames and bullets rained down on the spot he was just occupying. Wrath would survive another day, but his day _would_ come.

 

* * *

 

 

It took him a month to heal, to be prepared to return his mission. He could no long count on the element of surprise to help him take down the alchemists, he was going to have to fight from here on out. He knew his path would not be an easy one, but he wished he had more time to heal before encountering this one.

 

“I hear you've been looking for me.”

 

Scar knew that he had named this one appropriately as soon as he saw that smile. The one he called Lust, for blood lust and the gratification he got from using his alchemy to destroy people how he did. There was something so sinister about finding pleasure in destroying people in the manner that he did. This man was even went so far as to disgrace the uniform and country that he fought in the name of. He had turned on his own people, that was what the people in the lab had said, so this man truly killed for pleasure. He had no cause, only himself. Even if his body wasn't at full strength, he knew Ishvala would not allow a man like this to triumph. “I am here to deliver justice for your sins.”

 

Solf Kimblee chuckled as the Ishvalian tossed aside his cloak and revealed his tattooed arm. “Not only are you going punish me like a God for my sins but you're going to go against yours by using alchemy? Tsk, tsk.”

 

“I do not answer to you.”

 

“I really don't answer to anyone either.” Kimblee shrugged. Sure he had been given a 'second chance' after his little debacle with his superiors since Scar was on a rampage, but he wasn't actually expecting much to come of that. Clearly once Scar was put down they would find him again and lock him up. Bradley wasn't a fool, he made sure to keep that watchful eye of his on the troublesome individuals he had a hard time controlling. Still, the opportunity to battle a man of this caliber was hard to resist, hence the reason he went on the hunt for him. Once Scar was gone, it would be time to bid adieu to this waning war and find a new belligerent country to offer his services to. “However if you're so keen on delivering justice in the name of your God, why don't I help you meet him?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Kimblee found him.”

 

Roy looked over at Riza as she sat in the corner and looked out the window through the scope of her rifle. Since that night when he had encountered the Ishvalian she had volunteered to be his bodyguard when the orders for increased protective details had been passed down. He sat on the second floor of an abandoned bakery next to her now, his thoughts keeping him awake at night instead of the memories of his work. “Riza, I can't disagree with him.”

 

“He's a hypocrite.” Her voice was steady and she continued to watch the explosions in the distance. Once the attacks ebbed it would be time to go on high alert.

 

“He's fighting back.” Roy said softly. “We're the aggressors, we're the destroyers...we're the ones in the wrong.”

 

“He's looking for revenge.” She said simply. “He can coat his actions with as much religious jargon as he wants, he is looking for revenge.”

 

“He called me Wrath.” Roy said and toyed with the glove on his hand and closed his eyes. “As if I am a plague upon his land, one of the seven deadly sins that has come to scorch these sands with fire and fury.”

 

“He wants revenge and you know better than to listen to the taunts of the enemy.” She replied.

 

“He wrote 'Greed' in Comanche's blood on the desk where they found his pocket watch.” Roy said and opened his eyes, allowing his head to roll over to look at her unmoving form in the corner. His protector, the girl he wanted to protect. “'Gluttony' on the desk where they found Grand's watch. Sloth on Marcoh's lab coat.”

 

“You never did buy into religion.” Riza said and continued to watch the display light up the evening sky. There was something different about Kimblee's attacks, they were more intense. “That isn't even his religion. So why are you both judging people based on a system of beliefs that you don't abide by?”

 

“The only person in this world or universe that I will answer to is you.” Roy said softly. “Because I have betrayed your trust, abused your family secrets and abandoned any principles I used to have before I set foot on this god-forsaken desert. Riza, can you ever forgive me for what I've done...”

 

She finally lifted her head from the gun stock and looked over at him, the crack in his voice a sign that he was emotionally turbulent and losing focus. “You're obeying orders. This is not your choice, this is not the war you started.”

 

“Nobody makes me snap my fingers.” He sighed. “This is exactly why your father wouldn't teach me. So all I see now is how I've been so weak and cowardly...how easily I've been manipulated to use this to destroy and....”

 

“Roy, this man is not acting out God's will. He is the one consumed by Wrath and not you. Your skills are destructive and deadly, but you not malicious. That does not make us innocent. We can't begin to pay for what we have done here, there is no forgiveness in this world for us...but Scar has no right to judge anyone. He is a man consumed by wrath, a man who manipulated religion to justify his actions.” She returned her head to her rifle, not wanting to lose track of the conflict. “We are all guilty. We are all murderers. We are all sinners.”

 

“He is justified. Maybe not in the regard that he's a messenger of God, but as a human he has every right to make us pay for what we have taken from him.” Roy countered.

 

“He's not taking you, not under my watch.” She said sharply. “You can sympathize with his cause, but you will not fall prey to it. You can not make amends for what you have done if you are dead, so don't get yourself killed.”

 

“Maybe...it's God's will.”

 

“If it is than I will leave this Earth soon after you. I helped create the Flame Alchemist, your sins are mine as well.” She heard him catch his breath in the darkness and her voice remained steady when she added. “There is no good here, we are _all_ killers. Whether by hand, flame or bullet....we have taken lives and there is no penance for that. Do not sympathize with him because he is not on a mission, he is killing for satisfaction. It may not be Kimblee's type of satisfaction, but he is still trying to quench some thirst with murder.”

 

“And why are _we_ killing Riza?” Roy asked. “How does that make him worse than us, killing for a cause? We kill because we're told to, blindly following orders because it's our job. We have no reason. We accepted a job, put on this uniform and knew there would be death in our future.”

 

“There is no answer to that, we are all wrong.” She watched the explosions in the distance and sighed. “So the question becomes, what are we going to do about it now that we're already damned?”

 

“Make damned sure that the ones that follow us don't have to sit here and question their decision to protect their country. Give them a country worth protecting.” Roy said and put his head against the wall and closed his eyes and listened to the explosions in the distance. The war was drawing to a close and it was time to choose a path in life. Either he would dwell in the past and never allow this hell to release him or he would look to the future and carry this hell with him.

 

The Promised Day was what they called it, the day  when this war would end and they would go home. However that was no longer enough for people like him and Riza, they needed a greater purpose in order to continue to carry on. The Promise Day wouldn't come until Bradley's regime fell and a new Fuhrer rose to the top to lead the country into a better world. He was going to see to it that that day came or die trying to make it happen.

 


	3. Recognition

_The Promised Day_

Chapter 3

**Recognition**

* * *

 

_East City, 1914_

* * *

 

Maes Hughes put his hand on his best friend's chest as he started to walk into the room where Shou Tucker and Nina Tucker were now lying under sheets as obliterated masses on the floor. “There is something you should know before you walk in there.”

 

Colonel Roy Mustang's posture didn't change, but his eyes shifted over to scrutinize Hughes's face. He saw eyes staring back at him from behind the glasses, eyes that told him that this wasn't just an ordinary murder. So he took a few steps away from the other investigators in order to ensure they couldn't overhear the hushed whispers of the two officers. “So this wasn't a murder-suicide?”

 

“No.” Hughes noted that Roy let loose a deep breath, the guilt of pushing Tucker too far clear had been foremost in his mind. “This was a murder.”

 

Roy cocked his head. “Hughes, spit it out.”

 

“The Tuckers, were imploded.” Hughe said and saw Roy hold his breath. “Next to Tucker's body is the word, 'Envy' written in blood.”

 

“He's back.” Roy growled under his breath. “I thought that son of a bitch was dead.”

 

“As did we all.” Hughes leaned closer. “Those details were available to a very select few in Ishval.”

 

“He stopped killing. He disappeared after that battle with Kimblee.” Roy remembered that night so clearly. Of course it didn't allow him to relax back then either, because there wasn't a body. There weren't any bodies. There was just a crater when recon teams went into that town to investigate after the explosions stopped. There were no bodies, just an end to the rampage. “Where the hell has he been for the last five years?”

 

“Perhaps he was injured in the battle with Kimblee.” Hughes shrugged. 

 

“If he's still alive than Kimblee might be too.” Roy finally drew in a deep breath as he thought about the new information. “Why now? Why Tucker? He wasn't in Ishval, he only became a state alchemist two years ago when he made his wife into a chimera.”

 

“You're looking for logic from a serial killer.” Hughes shrugged. “Just be careful, put your team on high alert. He's in East City and that's not a coincidence. He's here for you.”

 

“Other than Tucker there aren't any other state alchemists here...well except for Fullmetal....” The words hung in his mouth as a feeling of dread gripped his heart. “Oh God...Lieutenant!”

 

“Sir?” Hawkeye turned to see him striding over to her, the sound of panic in his voice was enough to start her heart beating faster. “What's wrong?

 

“The Elrics? Where are they?” Roy demanded to her and everyone in the room.

 

Havoc looked over as he handed a cigarette to a MP about to go on break. “They were walking down the street after Hawkeye refused to let them in to see the crime scene. Don't worry, the kids listen better than you.”

 

“Find them.” Roy snapped. “Find them _now._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

Edward Elric trembled as he looked up at the man poised to take his young life away from him. He could go nowhere now that his arm was in pieces around him and he froze. Froze as he heard Al's voice screaming at him to save himself as that hand got closer to his face, closer to using alchemy to remove him from this Earth just as he had used it to bring people back. Part of what this man said struck a cord, it made the guilt of his mistakes surge back from the days of his past. “Why....why are you calling me Pride?”

 

“Is it not your sin?” Scar looked down at the boy, so young and yet so easily seduced by alchemy that he would tamper with something man had no right to dabble in. “I read in the papers how you are the youngest state alchemist, I have watched you boast about your skills and I _see_ now what you have done. Your brother is bound to a piece of hollow metal...you think you are above the laws of nature? Above life and death? You think you are on the same plane as God, who decided to take your brother from this Earth and you brought him back because you _could_?”

 

“No.” Ed shook his head and pushed himself a little further away from the man. “You don't understand my motives, you have no right to...”

 

“Pride.” Scar said. “Did you study alchemy to help others...or did you study alchemy to become a God and bring people back to life? Do you serve God, or serve yourself?”

 

“I...” Ed stopped crawling. “I...I'm going to get my brother's body back!”

 

“How did he lose it to begin with?” Scar asked and saw the golden eyes grow wide. “You are no different than the other alchemists who have sinned against God in the name of their country. No different than that man I removed from the Earth last night. A man who envied God's ability to create so much that he turned his daughter into some abomination.”

 

“You...killed Nina?” Ed finally felt anger. “She was just a little girl! We could have found a way to bring her back, but you took that from us! How could you kill an innocent little girl!”

 

“There was no bringing that child back.” Scar reached for the boy again, people in the street beginning to turn their attention to them. “Or were you going to trap her soul in a cold weapon like your brother? How is that any different than what Envy did?”

 

“Don't you dare compare me to him!” Ed screamed. Shou Tucker's insane chuckle and words echoed in his mind. No. They were nothing alike!

 

“Why are you doing this!” Al screamed at him, hoping to distract the killer long enough for someone to help them. “How can you call what you're doing good if you're killing people!? Do you really think your God wants that!?”

 

“No.” Scar said. “Initially I though I was doing what Ishvala wanted, purging the land of the sinners who were destroying my people. I now know that what I do is a personal mission, using the dreaded weapon of alchemy against people.... I am going against everything I believe in. However I believe there will be a better world for everyone once your kind are gone, no more wars like the extermination that wiped my people off the face of this Earth. I will not tarnish my God's name with my actions, I however won't let your alchemy stain Ishvala's Earth any longer either.”

 

“Our kind!?” Ed choked. “You're taking the high ground when you want to eliminate my _kind_?”

 

“We didn't fight in the war!” Al hollered. “We don't even know what you're talking about!”

 

“I fought in the war.”

 

Scar paused as his hand almost met flesh on the young alchemist's forehead. He knew that voice. A deep voice, now steady with conviction. Wrath.

 

“So why don't you take your issues up with me and leave that young man out of this.” Roy Mustang clenched his fist as he walked towards the man. Then he screamed, “Turn and face my wrath if that's what you want to wipe from the face of this Earth!”

 

Scar stepped back one step and turned to the man in the street. He changed. No longer was Wrath a man lost in a cloud of despair, no this man was one with a purpose. He was also more than ready to fight, more than ready to use his powers without coaxing. He had changed and now he was the one defending those he cared about. “I accept your challenge.”

 

Roy felt a rage brewing inside him, something he had never had to deal with when using his alchemy. “Now you stand here in my home, threatening my people....how dare you think you are the righteous one.”

 

“Colonel...” Hawkeye cautioned as drops began to fall from the sky.

 

“Stand back, Lieutenant, this man has threatened one of my subordinates and will not walk away from this alive.” Roy pushed her out of the way.

 

“Very well, Wrath. It is more fitting to eliminate you in your true form.” Scar prepared himself and focused on his opponent.

 

Ed watched the Ishvalian man lunge forward with surprising speed and looked to Mustang as he stood firm. He couldn't even begin to comprehend what had happened this day. All he could remember was that he and Al were joking about something when they left the military dorms this morning and then it all fell apart. Now he was watching a serial killer, Nina's killer, and his bastard boss duel in the streets over his life. Then he felt like the world almost ended when Mustang's hand produced a puff of smoke and Scar's hand almost impacted with his surprised face. Mustang was going to die!

 

At that moment, Riza Hawkeye once again saved Roy Mustang's life. She swept his leg out from under him as he stupidly tried to use Flame Alchemy in the rain and almost lost his head for it. She emptied her pistol at the Ishvalian, once again hitting him in the arm and cause him to dodge out of the way. The rest of the team opened up with their weapons and they watched the man dart into an alley to save himself. “Dammit sir, you're useless in the rain.”

 

Roy gritted his teeth and slammed his fist into his leg. “Son of a bitch, he's getting away! I let him get away before and now he's back.”

 

“Sir!” She turned and glared at him. “You're not going to kill him, not like this. Not with rage and alchemy, not like him.”

 

Roy heard it in her voice, the twinge of caution to not stray from his path. “After him, men! Do not rest until you have him in custody or a body to prove he is dead!”

 

* * *

 

 

“So, the Ishvalian War...wasn't a rebellion.” Ed said and sank into the couch as they sat in Mustang's office and the Colonel shared the story of the past with them. “You....willingly participated in a genocide?”

 

“We didn't know what was happening at first.” Hughes said and looked over at the rattled young man as Hawkeye unbraided his hair so it could dry. “However, as the war drew to a close we all had our suspicions. Back then we wanted to believe that our country would never turn on it's own, that what we did was for the right reasons. Even in the moment, I don't thing any of us fully understood what was going on. War is something that's not easy to explain Ed. You do things you never though you'd do to stay alive and keep people you love alive.”

 

“We found out eventually what we were really there for.” Riza spread out Ed's hair and he looked at her, shocked. “This is not something we carry with us lightly. We know we were a part of something horribly wrong.”

 

“It's why I have my eyes set on the top.” Roy said matter-of-factly and saw Ed's confused eyes look to him next. “Because an extermination of a race of people could only happen with the blessing of one man. Our Fuhrer. When this country is no longer in the hands of a man like that, I will gladly accept whatever punishment is handed out for what I have done. That punishment however, will not come at the hands of a man like Scar. Maybe at one time I felt he was justified, but for him to target you he is no longer obeying the laws of any God.”

 

“He called me Pride.” Ed said softly. “I...have been thinking about that.”

 

“Don't.” Roy said.

 

“Ed,” Hughes leaned forward and made sure he held Ed's stare before continuing. “This man lost his family and is desperate.”

 

“I know the feeling.” Ed said and cleared his throat. “So I can't say he's wrong. I defied the one rule alchemists are supposed to abide by, one simple rule and I did it. I played God. He said it, Tucker said it....I 've even said it. He's not wrong.”

 

“You've made mistakes, Ed.” Riza squeezed him and hated that someone so young should know this kind of anguish. “But you have paid a great price. You had nothing to do with Scar's life or family, he is looking for revenge for Ishval. Don't let him convince you he's here to do any more than that. Right now, doubting yourself will not help you fix what you have done. That is the difference between killing for hate and personal gain and living to fix what you have damaged. Killing, Edward, is killing no matter what reasons you attribute to it. He is not fixing anything with what he is doing.”

 

“We need to get you boys repaired so you're not helpless next time he shows up.” Roy said and shoved aside the folder that was on his desk regarding Shou Tucker. “Now you know he's out there, you know what he's capable of and you won't be surprised next time. Go back home, put yourselves back together and let us figure this out. You're no use to anyone broken.”

 

Ed watched Mustang shove things around his desk, pretending like he wasn't trying to protect them. “Well, don't let the Lieutenant leave your side either. You're broken in certain circumstances too.”

 

“Thanks.” Roy said and stood up. “I'm sure I can count on your to remind me of that for a very long time. So who is going to volunteer to take the Elrics to Resenbool?”

 

Ed had to turn away as a mass of sparkles and semi-nude man materialized in front of him and almost deafened them with bellowing. “Why couldn't he be Pride?”

 

* * *

 

“Well well, we were wondering what happened to you.”

 

Scar turned and looked to the sound of the voice, that familiar voice he could never forget from when he had been in that lab years earlier. Now it could finally be associated with a face. “You were in Sloth's lab.”

 

“Yes, but you're going to have to do me a favor.” Lust cooed. “You're going to have to stop giving these miserable humans such catchy names. It's rather offensive to my family you see, as those names are already taken.”

 

“Can I eat him, Lust?” Gluttony sucked his thumb and felt his belly grumble.

 

“Yes, Gluttony. In a second.” Lust stepped closer and smiled. “First I'd like to know why you decided to start calling your victims after us? Please, do tell.”

 

“He smells so yummy.” Gluttony licked his lips. “Blood..I like my meat rare.”

 

“What, no answer?” Lust noticed the Ishvalian wasn't interested in talking. “Because I have a hard time believing that you just came up with the Seven Deadly Sins on your own.”

 

“The Promised Day was coming and the Sins were unleashed to bring it about sooner.” Scar said and watched her eyebrows raise. What was this about? There were other people names after the sins? He felt something strange in the air and eyed the drooling one. Something wasn't right.

 

“You mean the alchemists?” Lust chuckled. “Oh, that's right, I forgot the soldiers called the end of their little war 'The Promised Day'. Well, now that that mystery is cleared up and I'm sure you know nothing about what the real Promised Day is.....have yourself a snack Gluttony.”

 

Scar couldn't do more than brace himself against the monster's attack, but as he looked into that beast's mouth he saw something that he'd never forget. An eye. An eye that wanted to consume him and everything he knew and felt, effectively erasing his existence from this world and locking it away into something inhuman. Something evil, something not of this world.

 

And in that moment, he knew he couldn't die because there was something far worse than the alchemists to contend with. He couldn't die because something she said made him fear for the future....something that meant that hell was going to be unleashed once again and nobody was the wiser.

 

The Promised Day was coming again.

 


End file.
